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Name: OregonianHouse: SlytherinTitle: Christmas at HogwartsRating/Warning: 1st-2nd years, no warningA/N:

After their Christmas dinner in the Great Hall, Harry and the Weasley brothers ran outside where the snow lay two or three feet deep except where the paths had been magically shoveled. No shovel marks in the snow, Harry noticed.

Ron scooped up a handful of snow, packing it quickly into a ball. "Percy, think fast!" he shouted, and the snowball flew in the general direction of his older brother. Gleefully, Harry threw and dodged dozens of snowball until his fingers were numb and his nose was red. What rambunctious fun! He had never done anything like this in Surrey.

Two years later, it still hurts every day. Sometimes, Molly hears his laughter in her head, the other part of George’s, the missing part of everything.

But when the door opens and Bill stumbles into The Burrow holding Victoire, joy fills her chest and spills over, down to her toes and onto the floor, everywhere.

Molly laughs, brushing snow from Bill’s shoulders and lifting the hat from her one-year-old granddaughter’s curls with a laugh. The baby smiles with her red nose and holds out her arms, and for a little while, Molly’s pain loses its sharp edges in loving Victoire.

Her hands shake as she pulls off another wad of toilet paper and wipes her nose. The soft sigh of sobbing echoes around the toilets, but otherwise itís quiet. When the door opens, the footsteps are telling. She knows who it is and something in her chest flutters with anticipation, with hatred.

The stall door slams forward. Pansy stands before her, a tired look of disgust on her face. Millicentís cheek stings long and hard with the slap.

The wand-waver is weak, he hears so often when they know he’s just within earshot, but Bill hides his sunburnt nose and wounded pride from the insulting Gringotts goblins he works with in Egypt. He has worked his entire life for this: for the hunt, the prized discoveries, the adventure. The Sahara holds a lot more for him than blistering sun and burning sand.

It holds his past, present, and future.

Clutching that knowledge close to his chest, Bill forges ahead with the pesky wards that would’ve only taken an experienced curse-breaker mere minutes to crack. But everyone starts somewhere.